Do not do a drive-by. I’m fine. Just tired. I’ll give you all the details later.
I load my toothbrush with toothpaste and brush, then wash my face and run my fingers through my hair enough so that I can pull it into a messy bun. When I come out of the bathroom, that’s when I hear the muffled yelling.
Peering out onto my back patio, I find Julian, facing in the other direction toward the river.
Something thumps against my front door, making me stop and spin towards it. I wait a few seconds, and then there’s knocking. The knocks hit double-time, and I know instantly that both of my sisters ignored my last text. There’s a little part of me that warms at the idea they wanted to be sure I was okay, even if it’s fueled by nosiness.
When I open it, they both stop talking and give me a once-over, and the widest, most-knowing Cheshire cat smiles spread across their faces. “You’ve finally hit your hoe-phase,” Stevie says, double-fisting boxes of condoms. “Didn’t know the size, so hoped for the best,” she says, opening her arms wide.
“Nope, no. You’re not coming in—” I say, getting cut off as Jo chews a potato chip from the bag she’s holding and then ducks under my arm.
Goddamnit.
“Is he still naked in your bed?” Stevie asks, covering her mouth, like that’s exactly what she’s hoping for.
I whisper-shout, “No!” and shut the door as they walk in. “See, I’m fine. I love that you were concerned. And I’ll share all the details if you want them later, but please, I wouldloveto not explain why my sisters are here...”
They both stand at the window, facing the patio, and stare out, disregarding the fact that I want them out of here. I cross my arms. They do well with threats. “I will not swap or share another pair of shoes with either one of you if you don’t get?—”
“What in the jackpot of man did you get yourself under, Dr. Wynona Crowne...” Stevie mumbles out.
Jo keeps staring out, holds her hand up, and waits for my highfive.
When I slap it, she turns and winks at me. “I won’t tell you to be smart. Have fun instead.” Moving to the fridge, she pulls out the last slice of cake we’d left and a fork. She takes it with her and yells out to Stevie, “Alright, let’s go, you horny little nymph, we’re leaving.”
“That’s my cake, Jo!” I yell after her.
“There are so many inches, aren’t there?” Stevie says in a low voice as Jo tries boxing her out. “Gah, if anyone gets to get the guy, it’s you, Wynnie.”
I just shake my head, biting back a smile, because they might have just been the comic relief I needed this morning.
“Don’t get knocked up!” Stevie shouts as Jo shoves her outside. “Use the condoms!”
I can hear Jo quietly reprimanding her as they walk back toward the car. “Seriously, you’re a wet blanket when you say shit like that. Nash is the best thing...”
When I open the patio doors, the heat hits almost as hard as the sight in front of me.Almost. Full back on display, a compass and birds that shift into paper airplanes running from the center of his back out to his shoulders. Shiny and sweaty, his jeans hang low as his garden-gloved hands lean on the handle of a rake propped next to him.
“We need to have a conversation about my dad, Birdie,” he shouts across the river to my grandmother, who’s got her basket of day-old bread so she can feed the ducks and birds that sometimes wander down here.
“Yes, that sounds lovely,” she says in a too-chipper, almost placating tone. “Is that my beautiful granddaughter over there?” she calls out to me. “Well, good morning, Wyn. Did I just hear Stevie’s car?”
I wave at her, giving her a tight-lipped smile, just as Julian turns around. He’s dirty and sweaty and delicious.Did he just weed my pathetic excuse of a garden?The once mess of weeds and my slightly functional irrigation system looks like it’s been cleared out and reconfigured.
He smiles at me, looking from my face and down the front of me. “Good morning.”
I bite my lip, stifling my smile. “Good morning.”
I look up and over at my grandmother, who’s wearing the world’s largest black sun hat and tossing food into the river.
“Why are you feeding the ducks?” I call out to Birdie.
“Well, your sister wanted me to see if you were home, which obviously you are. And the gators haven’t had a meal in a while, so figured I should fatten these up for ’em.”
Julian’s head whips back to me. “Is she serious?”
With a wince, I nod and give her a thumbs-up, because really, how am I supposed to respond to that? “The negative of living a stone's throw from family,” I say to him with a shrug. I leave out my least favorite circulating town rumor—the Crowne women feed people they don’t like to the alligators that live in the river next to the bar. It’s ridiculous, but that one followed me throughout middle school. Kids called me Gator-aid for the entirety of seventh grade.
Stepping closer, I glance around the cleaned-out space. He can’t be serious. “You did all of this?” I say, almost in shock. “How long have you been out here, Julian?”
